


Echoes

by Yellowdancer21



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Friendship/Love, M/M, Making Out, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 08:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17845835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellowdancer21/pseuds/Yellowdancer21
Summary: After making a fool of herself with Donnic, Aveline is too desperate for a distraction to refuse Hawke's request for help. When she and Anders get trapped in a cave and have to find their way out, she discovers that maybe what she's been looking for has been right in front of her all along.





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old story I posted a long time ago to ff.net and never managed to cross-post here. But since I've been updating my other fic finally I decided to go ahead and add some of my other projects to this site as well. I have a weakness for rare pairings and this might be one of the rarest. But I love Aveline and I love Anders. They are not an obvious pair, but I like a good challenge. I ended up having to change some details about poor Donnic to make it work. I don't dislike him or anything, but Aveline isn't very available as long as he's in the picture...

Aveline would have rather been on patrol. 

Many of the guardsmen had been trying to get out of their shifts so they could go to the party tonight, but she would have been more than happy to take a patrol off their hands in exchange for an excuse to avoid going. She couldn’t bear to show her face after the fool she’d made of herself with Donnic. But none of the guards had asked her to cover for them—probably because they thought a patrol would be beneath the guard captain. 

She was considering reassigning one of them anyway when Hawke appeared in her doorway. Handsome features lit up with a boyish grin, he cried, “There you are, Aveline! Have I got a mission for you!”

She wasn’t sure that wandering off with Hawke would be the kind of distraction she needed, but it was tempting just the same. Continuing to polish her shield, she asked, “Why? Because Fenris wasn’t available and you need a warrior to round out your scouting party?”

A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. “What? Are you still sore I didn’t take you along last time?”

“Or the time before that.”

“You’ve been busy.”

She grunted.

“I promise it’s important, a task for the Arishok.”

Her polishing rag went still and she arched an eyebrow. “What is it this time?”

“Some Tal Vashoth holed up in a cave on the Wounded Coast. They stole something that the Arishok wants back. Finding it would make him very happy. Who knows? He might even leave the city finally.” He smiled and she groaned. That sweet, little boy look in his eyes got her every time. 

She said yes. Hawke was practically family at this point, and she couldn’t bear to let him wander into a lion’s den without coming along to protect him. And before she knew it they were in a cave fighting qunari--more qunari than any of them had expected. 

Her boots slipped on the wet rock as she ducked beneath another blow, the qunari’s axe burying itself in the rock where her left shoulder had been. Grimacing, she dove out of reach and landed on her shield as she rolled, metal scraping against the rough stone with a whine. Rolling back to her feet, she found that the new angle gave her an opening. She forced the savage back into an alcove where his movement was limited then stabbed up at him, shifting her angle at the last moment to slip past his guard and deliver a killing blow. He landed hard on his knees, a veil of blood obscuring the vitaar on his face. 

Wresting his body from her sword with a kick of her boot, she turned back to her companions in search of her next target. Despite her little victory, the battle was going poorly. Hawke was pinned between a chasm and a forest of stalagmites, Isabela was surrounded by more qunari than even she had daggers and Anders was leaning heavily on his staff after watching the Tal Vashoth leader shrug off his most powerful spell. Aveline hesitated, uncertain which of her companions needed her assistance most, and that moment of hesitation allowed one of the qunari to get past her defenses.

His blade sliced across her thigh and he roared in triumph as she stumbled. Struggling to lift her shield before he landed another blow, she blocked one strike and then another, but her injured leg would not support her weight, so she could do little more than retreat and stab blindly at the qunari from behind her shield. The others were too overwhelmed to help her, so she didn’t call out, but when she felt the damp wall at her back, she knew she couldn’t keep fighting this way. Gritting her teeth, she lunged forward with her shield and cleared enough space to swing her sword. Her leg felt like a white-hot fire, but she pressed on, forcing it to support her as she finally landed another blow. 

She was making progress, but the qunari struck her again, this time on her sword arm, and she heard a cry echo through the cavern. The howl was so feral it took a moment for her to realize that it had come from her. In her distraction, the qunari had managed to trap her beside a pit so deep she couldn’t see the bottom. Gritting her teeth again, she readied herself for another push, but before she could take a step the qunari froze in a flash of wintry mist. A series of slashes from Anders’ staff blade shattered him to pieces. 

Sucking in a breath of relief, Aveline lowered her shield enough to lean on it, taking the opportunity to survey the battleground. The tide was finally turning. Isabela and Hawke had found each other in the melee and were fighting back to back, a pile of qunari growing at their feet. Warmth washed over her arm and she turned to see Anders standing beside her, his touch light and careful as he knitted her muscles back together with little jolts of energy. She tried not to shiver, though healing magic always made her itch uncontrollably as if she were enduring the entirety of the normal healing process in a single instant. 

“Let me see that leg,” he said when the wound on her arm was closed and she shifted to give him better access, noting that Anders was not in the best of shape himself. More blond strands were falling loose than were restrained by the tie at the back of his head and blood had congealed along his forehead and down to his cheekbone, though she couldn’t tell whether it belonged to him or their enemies. He looked tired, eyes dark with exhaustion, cheeks gaunt, and she felt a pang of guilt. She shouldn’t have let Hawke drag him out of his clinic. It was bad enough that she had no restraint to refuse Hawke when his requests included her, but it was even worse that she said nothing when she could see him persuading another against their better judgment. Anders had been closing up shop when they arrived, and anyone could see that he needed nothing more than a good meal and a decent night’s sleep—anyone, it seems, but Hawke, who had coerced Anders into coming along with only a few flirtatious words and the threat of a guilt trip.

She gasped when she felt his healing magic touch her leg. The itch was a hundred times worse since the cut was both longer and deeper, and she squirmed enough in reaction that Anders had to hold her steady with a hand on her hip. Focusing on his face to avoid looking at what he was doing, she watched his brows draw together in concentration, droplets of sweat drawing paths through the dirt on his skin. He slumped slightly in relief when he was done, rubbing at his eyes as if he had taken on her pain.

“Thank you,” she said, gathering her sword and shield. “Stay back and rest a moment. I’ll cover you.”

That’s when she noticed the fiery pot flying through the air. She cried out wordlessly in warning, but only caught a glimpse of Hawke’s wide blue eyes on the other side of the cavern before the world erupted in fire and dust. The force of the explosion threw her back into Anders and they went flying, not into the bottomless pit, thankfully, but into a wall that she had thought was solid until it gave way behind them. Afraid of losing track of Anders in the dark, she managed to catch hold of his arm as they slid down one steep slope and then another, collapsing finally in an icy pool of standing water. Rock and dirt tumbled down around them, filling in the opening they had made far above and blotting out all the light.

“Anders?” she murmured, her voice faint in the all-consuming darkness.

A light flickered to life by her head, a small wisp that Anders set free from his fingertips the moment he had conjured it. The wisp barely lit the space around them, so she had no idea how large the cavern was, but she could see a nice dry spot in the distance that looked more comfortable than where they were now.

Turning back to Anders, she paused when she saw him pressing a hand against the back of his head. “You all right?”

“I think so. I hit my head when we landed.” His fingers came away from his scalp with blood, but it was not a worrying amount, at least. 

“Let’s get out of this damp.” She pointed to the dry spot and pulled on his arm to get him to his feet. He swayed slightly and nearly lost his balance the moment she released him. 

“I must have a bit of a concussion,” he said in a detached tone that she found unsettling.

“Lean on me.”

The journey was a short one, but it felt entirely too long with Anders’ shaky steps. He dropped to the ground as soon as they reached their destination, leaning back against a rocky outcropping and drawing his knees to his chest.

Aveline settled beside him, watching with worry as he bowed his head over his knees and focused his breathing as if he were in pain. “Can you heal yourself?”

“I lost my staff in the fall and I hardly had enough mana left to summon that little wisp. Nothing to do now but wait.”

She huffed in anger. “I knew I shouldn’t have let Hawke drag you along.”

Anders’ eyes flashed in the dim light, brown irises burnished to gold. “If I hadn’t been here, you might have lost your leg.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said in a gentler tone. “But you’ve been working all day. You’re tired. He had no business dragging you out on this fool’s errand when you were in such a state.”

She felt Anders watching her and was surprised to see a lopsided smile on his face; the expression was as close as he ever got to amusement, and it was rare enough that she felt a little flutter of warmth in her chest at the sight. 

“I appreciate your concern, Aveline, but if you don’t mind my saying so, your anger seems a bit misplaced.”

“How so?”

“I’m not a child. I could have turned Hawke down if I hadn’t wanted to come. I was craving a break from the clinic. And sometimes helping a friend can be less tiring than helping yourself.”

She sighed. He was right, of course.

“Perhaps you are the one regretting coming along? Especially now that we are potentially trapped in a cave with no way out?”

She sighed again. “There’s always a way out.”

“True.” He chuckled, the velvet rumble something she would have expected to hear coming from Varric, not him. “I’m actually rather good at escaping from places, you know? You should be thanking Hawke that I’m here.”

She returned his smile begrudgingly. “Okay then, escape artist. What’s our next move?”

“Just give me a minute to catch my breath and we’ll start looking for an exit.”

They sat for a few minutes in silence, the wisp’s light casting flickering shadows over the distant cavern walls. Aveline watched the dance of light and frowned, her mind falling back into patterns of regret and recrimination that were all too familiar for her of late.

“What I said about Hawke,” she said finally, “I suppose I was projecting my own feelings onto you. Sometimes I feel like he sees us all as nothing more than tools at his disposal. It’s like he thinks of us as parts of his arsenal that he can just pull out as needed to tackle whatever selfish quest he’s signed up for at the moment.”

Anders’ voice was quiet and carefully neutral, the voice of a counselor. “And when did this realization occur to you?”

“Why?”

He grimaced. “Was it after he botched that whole thing with Donnic?”

She turned on him, cheeks burning with sudden anger. “How dare you?”

“Wait,” Anders protested, palms up in a plea for peace. “Hear me out. It can still be fixed. You just asked the wrong man for help.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Hawke is a bit of a thug, isn’t he? He can be persuasive in his own brutish way, sure, but it’s more the fact that he’s so endearingly bad at it that wins people over most of the time. He shouldn’t be giving anyone relationship advice. His idea of romance is a shag with Isabela, for Andraste’s sake.”

The common sense in his words calmed her. “I suppose that’s true.”

“What you need is someone who can fill in the blanks for you, match your intent with the kind of action that Donnic will understand.”

“And you’re offering to what? Be my interpreter?”

And there was Anders’ roguish smirk again. “I may not be very romantically active at the moment, but I have more experience than most.”

Leaning back against the wall, she considered his offer. “I appreciate the thought, Anders, but I’m afraid it’s too late.”

“Don’t say that!”

“It’s true. Donnic’s engaged. They’re throwing him a party tonight.”

The scowl that blossomed on Anders’ face was almost comical. “Well, that happened fast.”

“Not really.” Aveline shrugged, the weight of her mistake finally hitting her. “Apparently, for a guard I’m really unobservant. He’s been courting the girl for years. 

Anders’ hand found hers in the darkness and gave it a gentle pat. “I’m sorry, Aveline.”

She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Pulling her hand away from his reassuring touch, she scrubbed at her face and tried to shake off the melancholy. “Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? It’s settled.”

“If you say so. But when we get back, I’m buying you a pint at the Hanged Man,” Anders vowed.

“You don’t drink.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t buy you one.” Brushing off his trousers, he pushed himself to his feet, leaning against a boulder to keep his balance. “Time to find a way out of here.”

“What about your head?” she protested. “You should heal it first.”

“It’s not that bad. And I’d rather save my energy in case I need it for something more important.” He flicked his fingers and the wisp returned to hover over them. “Shall we?”

They left a mark on the wall where they had been sitting so they would know where they had started. Then they made a circuit around the perimeter of the cavern in search of an opening. When they finally found one, it was above their heads by several feet. 

“Ladies first,” Anders said, cupping his hands for her foot.

“I don’t think so. You’re the one with the light.”

He conceded her point and allowed her to boost him up, crawling into the fissure with a grimace of pain. Whether it was from the concussion or some other injury he had hidden, she wasn’t sure, but she shifted impatiently from one foot to the other while she waited for him to investigate. Finally he returned, releasing the wisp to hover over him. “It’s a tight fit, but it looks like it opens up into a bigger chamber.” She handed him her sword and shield and then took his hand. She was surprised by his strength as he hauled her up the rock face, her boots finding little purchase on the slick surface to help along the way, but crawling over the edge was a bit awkward for them both. 

She found herself lying on top of him before they were done, panting for air after the exertion. He was surprisingly warm, not as bony as she had assumed he would be, and she found the position more comfortable than she would have expected. A blush warmed her cheeks as she felt his stubble scrape against her forehead, his heart pounding in her ear, and she found herself remembering another body, another rough jaw and heartbeat. She hadn’t been this close to a man since...not since Wesley. A tear tracked down her cheek, falling unbidden into the feathers on his coat.

“Maker’s breath, you are like a ton of bricks,” he gasped once he had caught his breath, and she flinched, rolling off of him quickly to hide her reaction. “Not in a bad way,” he quickly revised. “I mean, you must be nothing but solid muscle.” Letting his head fall back on the ground he groaned. “Maker's Breath, I’m making a great example of my honeyed tongue, aren’t I? You were probably better off with Hawke’s help, after all.”

Focusing on retrieving her weapons, she tried to shake off the ghost she felt against her skin. “It’s fine,” she snapped, just to get him to stop talking.

“I’m sorry.”

“Let’s just get moving.”

She could hear his teeth click as his jaw snapped shut, and she started crawling through the tunnel. 

* * *

Anders’ head was pounding so loudly he could hardly hear Justice berating him for neglecting his duties with this useless adventure. Justice preferred for him to spend all his waking hours working toward their cause or helping the refugees, and Hawke’s little quests tended to force him to question his beliefs more often than they strengthened his resolve. But Anders didn’t care. He was not a spirit. He needed things that Justice simply could not understand. Food. Sleep. Human contact. He could quiet the complaints most of the time, but Justice only got more insistent every time he was denied, and the prospect of Justice eventually winning the struggle terrified him. So, despite the pain, he was grateful for the headache since it gave him a temporary reprieve from the endless lecture in his head.

They had no way of telling if they were getting closer to an exit or simply delving deeper into the mountainside, but there was nothing to do but keep putting one foot in front of the other. With every step his claustrophobia grew, and he lingered close to Aveline simply to remind himself that he wasn’t alone. Panic born from a year in solitary confinement threatened to overwhelm him on even short journeys underground, and they had been trapped in the caverns for hours. It didn’t help that Aveline refused to speak. Conversation was generally the only way for him to keep his sanity in these sorts of situations; the Wardens had often teased him for his ceaseless babbling the farther they went into the Deep Roads. But he could tell she wasn’t interested in talking, and he didn’t want to be the one to break the silence.

He didn’t know if it was Justice’s influence or his own lack of practice, but he couldn’t believe he’d been such an idiot. Commenting on a woman’s weight was a downright amateur mistake. Aveline was so strong in every other way that he never would have anticipated that her physical appearance could be a point of doubt for her, but now that he thought about it, he realized he should have anticipated this particular chink in her armor. Women were given a set of physical standards for acceptable beauty from a young age, and no matter how Aveline might have tried to fit into that impossible standard, her body was simply not built that way. It had never occurred to him that she might have wished that it did. He thought of his own struggles with the way he had been made. Mages couldn’t choose their abilities, but they weren’t the only ones with unwelcome traits determined by birth.

He hated to think that he had wounded Aveline over such a thoughtless remark. She was a force of nature as powerful as any of her male colleagues in battle, and she had the musculature to prove it. She was strong, proud, and though not beautiful in the traditional sense, the strength of her resolve, the purity of her heart made her glow with an inner light that could blow any superficial beauty away. Though they often were at odds in politics, Anders admired her greatly, felt protective of her innocence in a way that he felt about few others. Not even Merrill triggered his protective instincts like Aveline did—mostly because he had difficulty accepting blood magic as a weakness rather than a deliberate choice—and the last thing he wanted to do was to make Aveline doubt herself.

Lost in thought, he nearly caused them both to fall right over a cliff as he failed to notice that she had stopped before he walked right into her. Spitting out a mouthful of ginger hair, he instinctively retreated a few steps when she spun around to face him, green eyes bright with annoyance. “Do we need to take a break?” she asked tersely.

“No. Sorry.”

Eyes narrowing, she returned her attention to the abyss before them and sighed. “Well, I could actually use one. We’re getting nowhere fast.” Leaning against the wall beside her, she slid down the surface to the floor.

“What about that passage we passed a few turns back?”

She shrugged. “Worth a try. In a few minutes.”

Nodding, he folded his arms over his stomach and leaned back against the opposite wall, squeezing his eyes shut to blot out the illusion that the walls were closing in on them. He could feel the weight of all the rock over their heads, and the smell of cold and damp brought back memories so vividly that he felt like he would gladly crawl out of his own skin just to escape the sensations. “Surprising that we haven’t run into any enormous spiders yet,” he said suddenly, his old coping mechanism kicking in now that she had finally broken the silence. “I mean, no matter where we go underground there are always spiders—or undead, I suppose. Take a few steps into a cave and up they pop, but we haven’t run into anything living—or nonliving—since we fell down here. It’s unnerving.”

“Are you actually complaining that nothing has attacked us yet?”

“Not exactly, no. It’s just that it’s inevitable that something will, and I’d rather get it out of the way sooner rather than later. I mean, I’d even take a few darkspawn at this point, though I would be able to sense those coming and I can’t feel a thing right now. This must be the one network of caves in the whole of Thedas that never connects up with the deep roads. What are the odds? Not that the darkspawn couldn’t make their own path through the rock. Did I ever tell you about the time when I was with the wardens at Amaranthine and the darkspawn burrowed up through our cellars? The commander was furious that—”

“Anders,” Aveline interrupted sharply.

It was a struggle to open his eyes, but he managed to do it, vision wavering in and out of focus before finally settling on her. “Hm?”

“You’re bleeding.”

He looked down, noticing a few spots of blood on the ground near his boot, but he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from until she stood up and took his arm, turning it to look at the outside of his forearm near his elbow. Blood had soaked through his coat down to the cuff, but he hadn’t even noticed the dampness amongst his other little miseries. 

She gave him a thoughtful look, but didn’t order him to heal the cut as he had expected. She must have realized he didn’t have the strength. Mages recovered mana at a slower rate when they were tired or injured, and he was struggling to even keep the wisp alight. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she waved a hand at him. “Take off the coat.”

He did as he was told, wincing as he tried to shrug out of the heavy fabric. She helped him when she saw how much he was struggling, pushing the coat back off the injured arm but leaving it hanging from his other shoulder. They had settled on the ground at some point during the process, though he didn’t remember sitting down. His vision was fragmenting, red blotches dancing in and out of sight as he watched her remove the scarf from her neck and smooth out the fabric. He wanted to say something about how unsanitary it was to use a sweaty scarf for a bandage, but he kept his mouth shut. He could cleanse any infection out of the wound later. They just needed to staunch the bleeding. Wincing as she knotted the cloth around his arm, he let his eyes close, and this time he couldn’t bring himself to open them again.

“Anders,” she hissed, repeating his name and shaking him lightly when he failed to respond. Her voice was getting farther away. He felt her hand brush lightly over his forehead and then the darkness rushed in around him like water breaking through a dam. 

* * *

The wisp had disappeared the moment Anders passed out, but Aveline’s eyes adjusted slowly to the dim glow of the mushrooms clinging to the walls. She wasn’t sure how long she sat staring helplessly at him, but she knew that it was too long for a trained officer accustomed to command. Anders was the healer. He was the one who took care of everyone else. He shouldn’t be the one who needed healing. Yet here she was, in fine shape herself due to his ministrations while he was unconscious and in need of help she had no expertise to offer. The bleeding on his arm was finally slowing, but a glance at the way they had come showed her that he had been bleeding for quite some time and neither of them had noticed. 

“You idiot,” she said, uncertain if she was speaking to herself or him. His skin was clammy and abnormally cool to the touch as she lightly touched his face, and even unconscious he turned into the touch, hungry for the contact. She pulled away as if burned.

“No point sitting around here waiting for rescue,” she reprimanded herself. “Get up and moving, soldier.” Leaning down, she managed to position his torso across her shoulders so that she could carry him, though his dead weight was a bit heavier than she had anticipated. Or perhaps that was just exhaustion talking. 

One weary step at a time, she carried him back the way they had come, frowning at the little puddles of blood along the way. If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in torturing herself over might-have-beens, she would have noticed Anders’ condition sooner. But no, she had been giving him the silent treatment for hours, punishing him for reminding her of her husband, something that wasn’t even his fault. He probably thought she was angry at his little faux pas, as if comments about her sturdy physique had troubled her much since she was a child. No, her skin was as thick as dragonhide on that front, and she had heard the admiration in his voice. He was blameless in this. 

She couldn’t help thinking of Wesley as she carried Anders, remembering that frantic flight from Lothering. She had been insistent that Wesley would make it no matter what. Even when that witch warned them about the Darkspawn taint and what would happen to Wesley if they let it spread, she had still been convinced that she could find a way to save him. It was Hawke who had taken that burden from her, and somewhere deep inside a hideous, shameful little part of her hated him for that. But now years later, she thought she’d finally put Wesley to rest. She thought she was ready to move on—or at least that’s what she’d told herself when she pursued Donnic. But one little innocent embrace with Anders had wiped all that progress away. How could someone so different from Wesley—a mage and an apostate—remind her so much of her late husband? They were nothing alike.

Or so she had thought, but the more she considered it, the more the similarities began to stack up. Wesley had been generous and selfless to a fault. The only reason they had been reunited in Lothering was because he’d gone back to protect an elderly chantry sister who had been left behind by everyone else. If he hadn’t, they would have missed each other entirely. Anders was no less generous or selfless. He worked himself to the bone in his clinic saving lives and healing patients who had no money to pay him. His belief in the plight of mages was every bit as strong as Wesley’s belief in the Templars’ duty, and though their beliefs were completely opposed, they both fought for their ideals with unwavering dedication. 

She stumbled over an uneven place in the tunnel and Anders’ moan pulled her out of her thoughts. Peering anxiously at his face she wondered if he was getting worse. Visions of the taint spreading over Wesley’s skin made her heart pound faster, though she knew that Anders was a Warden and would have been immune to that sort of danger even if they had encountered it. But they hadn’t. He was simply overtired and weak from loss of blood. He wasn’t dying. She tried to tell herself that, but the panic inside her wouldn’t listen. “Stay with me,” she whispered, squeezing his arm gently.

Eventually she found the branching tunnel they had passed before and began to follow it, losing track of time as she walked. Though she couldn’t see much, she felt the tunnel widening around her, and soon she could hear water gurgling up from some deep reservoir ahead. The tunnel opened into a chamber mostly occupied by a pool, but a rock ledge curving around the outside left enough room for her to sit comfortably. The ceiling was covered in glowing blue mushrooms, and they reflected in the still surface of the pool in dizzying patterns. It was as good a place as any to take a break. 

Placing Anders on the ground beside her, she tested the water in the pool and was relieved to find it clear and pure. She drank her fill and then opened Anders’ mouth and cupped her hands to bring him as much water as she could carry. Most of it ended up on his face instead of down his throat, softening the dried blood on his cheek, and she dampened a piece of her tunic and used it to wipe his face clean. Her efforts reopened a cut on his forehead, but she was relieved to see that it was shallow and a little pressure caused it to shut again. While she was still preoccupied with the cut on his forehead he must have awakened, because just as she was pulling the cloth away, she felt his hand on her wrist. The look on his face was puzzled, a question in his eyes, but she was afraid to hear it.

“Take it easy,” she said before he could speak. 

“How long was I out?” he asked finally, voice like gravel despite the water she had tried to give him.

“Not sure. An hour maybe.”

Sitting up slowly, he looked around the chamber with furrowed brows. “We’ve moved.” Tilting his head at her, he asked incredulously, “Did you carry me?”

“I did. You’re heavier than you look.” She smiled weakly at him, and was relieved to see him smile back. Gesturing at the pool, she said, “Get some water, if you can. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

He followed her direction without question, and she realized that their roles had reversed. Suddenly she had taken on the role of healer and he was the patient. Watching him drink, she took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves, so relieved to see him awake again that she could just curl up on the ground and cry. The water seemed to revive him, and he even took a moment to apply a little healing magic to the wound on his arm before the spell flickered out as he ran dry again. Taking another drink, he sat back on his heels and looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. Excess water ran over his face and down his neck in little rivers and her fingers itched to wipe the drops away. 

She wondered at herself. How long had it been since she’d felt such an urge? Even Donnic had not lit such a fire in her belly as she felt looking at Anders now, and it made no sense. She had fought alongside him for years and never felt even a twinge. Was this real or just desperation? And was it even possible that he could return her feelings? He was recovering from a lost love as well, and other than Isabela’s claims about her past encounter with Anders, Aveline hadn’t seen him show much interest in women.

“Aveline?” Anders had caught her looking. Smiling reassuringly, he said, “I’m fine, really. I just don’t do well underground.” 

That smile. She felt a flutter in her chest again, and for once in her life she didn’t care about doing the right thing. She didn’t want to be patient and wait for her due. She wanted to take what was in front of her and worry about the consequences later.

“Aveline,” he repeated, this time with worry in his eyes. 

Gritting her teeth, she looked away. “We should get moving.”

“If this is about what happened before…”

“No. Shut up.” Without intending to move closer, she found herself kneeling before him, pressing a hand against his lips to silence him. His breath rebounded off her skin in uncertain little puffs and she was so close she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes even in the dim light. 

Words always got in her way, so she decided to skip over them entirely. Easing her grip on his mouth, she slid her fingers along his jaw until she had the space to press a kiss against his lips. If he was shocked, he recovered quickly, hesitating only a few moments before he began returning the kiss with far more experience than her sweet Wesley had ever had cause to gain. She melted into his touch as calloused fingers brushed lightly over her cheeks and down her neck. His tongue pressed lightly against her lips and she parted them in surprise, moaning as soon she felt his tongue probing into her mouth, every point of contact an exquisite rush of sensation that made her clutch him more tightly. She wanted more, but he slowed the kiss when she started moving too fast, forcing her to savor each touch.

Breathless and lightheaded when he finally pulled away, she tucked her face into the curve of his neck to catch her breath, her body hot and trembling with need.

“Aveline,” he whispered. “What are we doing?”

She froze, suddenly uncertain. “You seemed to have the hang of it a minute ago.”

Catching her chin in his hand, he lifted her head until he could meet her eyes. His expression was conflicted, eyes dark with lust but jaw taut with resolve. “You don’t want me.”

She opened her mouth to set him straight, but the words died in her throat. What did she want? Would she regret this tomorrow? “Why did you kiss me back?” she asked instead.

He looked away, a self-disparaging smile on his lips. “Instinct. Growing up in the tower always under the eye of the templars, you learn to find pleasure and acceptance no matter where it’s offered. But I know most people aren’t conditioned that way. I’ve learned to ask questions before things go too far.”

Sometimes she forgot how broken Anders was, how miraculous it was that he’d survived any of the things he’d been through. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said quickly, smiling again, and for the life of her she didn’t know how he could make such a happy expression look so very sad.

“But I don’t know what I want.” 

He met her eyes again but remained silent, giving her space to collect her thoughts. 

“Right here? right now? I want you. I’ve never wanted you before. But earlier, on that ledge...we were so close and it awakened something inside of me. That’s why I flinched. It wasn’t anything you said. It’s just that for a moment you reminded me…” Of Wesley. “Of what it felt like to be happy.”

His smile brightened, causing little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you for telling me.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” she said, slipping into the sort of authoritative tone she used with her guardsmen. 

His eyebrows arched. “Oh?”

“Not after that little demonstration. Now that I know how good you are at kissing I’m only going to start wondering how good you are at everything else.”

“Well, I’m happy to give you another demonstration anytime you need it.”

“You are too generous.”

He laughed.

Turning pensive, she brushed fingertips lightly over his jaw. “No, I mean it. You give so much of yourself away without any thought to how your gifts will be used. You deserve better.”

She couldn’t be entirely sure given the poor lighting, but she thought he blushed. Then his nose crinkled and he looked away sharply. “Do you smell that?”

At first she thought he was trying to distract her, but then she felt something against her cheek. A draft. It was faint enough that she questioned if she was imagining it, but then she saw it stirring Anders’ hair. 

“It smells…” He closed his eyes for a moment and when they popped open again he was grinning. “Like the sea.”

And now she could smell the hint of brine as well. “It’s coming from that direction.” She pointed to the opposite side of the pool.

Exhaustion fading in the face of hope, they both leapt to their feet and practically ran across the cavern. The ledge narrowed toward the end and they had to sidle across the last few feet, but she could see the ruddy glow of sunset on the tunnel ahead. Grinning from ear to ear, she chased Anders through the final curve of rock and into an open sky, ears full of his whoops of joy and the crash of waves against the beach below.

“We made it!” she said in relief, murmuring a prayer of thanks to Andraste, though she rarely considered herself religious.

Then she saw silhouettes on the bluff above. For a moment she feared more Tal Vashoth, but then she saw arms waving in joy as the pair ran down the hill toward them. 

“We thought you were dead for sure!” Isabela cried, launching herself at Anders with enough vigor to nearly knock him over, especially in his weakened state. 

Even Hawke got caught up in the spirit and pulled Aveline into a hug. “Are you hurt?”

“No. But Anders is.” Hawke began digging around in his pack for a potion and Aveline turned back to Anders only to balk as Isabela planted a kiss right on his lips. “Back off, harlot,” she said without thinking.

The pirate pulled away with a smack of lips and a laugh. “Hm,” she said, planting a hand on one hip as she turned to face Aveline, her other hand still lingering on Anders’ shoulder. “Possessive, aren’t you? And here we thought you two were  _ lost _ in those caves all this time.”

“We were,” Anders replied, removing her hand from her shoulder gently and giving her knuckles a light kiss before releasing it. Hawke pressed a healing potion into his hand.

“Did we at least get what you came for?” Aveline asked.

“Not exactly.” Hawke shrugged. “But we’re one step closer.”

“Maybe bring Fenris along next time.” She glanced at Anders as he drained the potion. “And Merrill.”

“Too much fun for you?” Isabela slapped her on the shoulder. Then, more seriously, she added. “I was worried about you, big girl.”

“I wasn’t,” Hawke scoffed. “If anyone was going make it back in one piece it was Aveline.”

“What about me?” Anders asked, polishing off the potion and tucking the empty bottle into his pocket. 

“You? I’m surprised you didn’t lose your mind the moment that passage collapsed. But Aveline leaves no man behind.”

Shifting his attention back to Aveline, Anders smiled slowly and she felt warmth bloom on her cheeks.

“Something definitely happened between you two,” Isabela crowed.

“Oh, leave them alone,” Hawke said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and turning her back the way they’d come. “Let’s get back to the Hanged Man. Varric will want to hear all the juicy details of our day.”

Aveline and Anders fell into step behind them in a companionable silence. When Hawke and Isabela had gotten far enough ahead to have trouble eavesdropping, Anders leaned toward her and said, “I believe I owe you a drink.”

“No,” Aveline protested. “After everything that happened, I’m buying. Will you drink?”

He considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “Justice doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t have to like everything I do.”

“Good.”

She reached for his hand and he let her take it, folding their fingers together as if they were meant to fit.


End file.
